Blue Dahlias
by RoseDare
Summary: Bella Swan is the new lead Mental Health Director at Evergreen State Prison. She is in charge of overseeing all inmate mental health progressions, and to act as voice for the voiceless in her care. Her words heal, shatter and grant freedom. She is determined to leave her past, and her secrets, behind her in Phoenix, when a silent inmate with guarded green eyes captures her heart.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I've decided that the worst color on earth is mustard yellow.

It's not inviting, it's not familiar, it sparks no sense of nostalgia and after staring at it for almost 20 minutes, it starts to remind you of urine.

The woman next to me shivered slightly and wrapped her knit cardigan over her large chest tightly. The movement reminded me of my bare legs, and I resisted the urge to smooth my skirt and try to push the seem just a tad lower.

The air was cold, stagnant and uncomfortable under the florescent lights above. And the awful mustard yellow sign was illuminated in such away that it reflected down onto the polished linoleum floor, the letters distorting themselves slightly.

"WELCOME TO EVERGREEN STATE PRISON."

I thought absentmindedly that maybe the sign should have been painted a more forest green as the northwest name entailed, when two men appeared through a office door.

One man was short and had a very wide and generous face. His tweed jacket was slightly frayed at the collar, and somehow that added to his charm. He turned to the woman beside me and asked for her hand.

The other man, wearing a dark blue button down and slacks smiled at the couple as they thanked him and headed for the door. A moment after their departure his gaze connected with mine.

"Ms. Swan?"

I nodded and rose, offering my hand. "Mr. Long?"

He took my hand in both of his and shook them warmly, his kind blue eyes wrinkling slightly in the corners as he smiled at me.

"I'm glad to see you Ms. Swan. How was your flight in? It's been raining pretty hard all day." As he spoke he gestured me into the room he was just emerging from.

"The rain was actually pretty welcome. In Phoenix our equivalent tends to be dust storms. So I'm pretty refreshed."

He laughed and handed me a small manilla envelope. "Well dust storms certainly aren't a problem here. Here's all your identification we spoke about as well as your key cards. As I said on the phone, everything here is accessed through our personalized cards, so I wouldn't loan them out."

"Gotcha." I peeked inside the envelope, scanning quickly through the folded document and took out a copy of my ID.

The picture they had gotten for the card was one I had posed for at a professional photography studio down in Phoenix, which I had sent in after the job was offered.

My lips were tight in the photo, and my eyes just a tad off center from the camera. I recognized my telltale signs of discomfort, but hoped I'd hidden it well.

As Renee always said, I was an introvert wearing an extroverts clothes.

Today that meant I was wearing a black pencil skirt and a olive green blouse that cinched in at the waist, but kept the neckline modest. My attire was deliberately discreet. I had worked hard for my PhD, and I wanted no reason to not be taken seriously. I was new here, and I wanted to be welcomed warmly, but also respected.

After discussing some security points, and introducing me to the reception area and a few guards, I was led to a long corridor.

This is the Mental Health Center. The care staff you'll be leading all reside in the offices in this hall. You've got Rosalie, Jessica, Marissa, and Mike." He attached each name with a gesture to a closed door. "Rosalie and Marissa are the senior techs, they respond to the more at-risk inmates, and refer out to our call in psychiatrist if need be. Mike and Jessica are newer, still working on their Bachelors. They usually split the dailies and in the afternoons take the add-ons."

We moved our way through the hallway as he spoke, and I glanced in one of the open doorways.

A blonde with long delicate lashes brushing her cheeks, was typing skillfully on her laptop. Her desktop was neatly organized, and I noticed with a smile that her pens were arranged color coded in her "Dont Call Me Princess" mug.

Mr. Long noticed my gaze and followed it into the office. "Ah good, at least one of them isn't buried underneath behavior reports. Rosalie, meet Ms. Swan, your new director."

Rosalie paused a moment and looked up at me. "I didn't realize you were arriving today." She moved to get to her feet.

I raised my hand to stop her. "You don't need to be interrupted. I am just getting settled in. My first official day is tomorrow."

Rosalie's eyes scanned over me in a calculating motion, no doubt assessing her new lead. She raised her hand. "Rosalie Hale, but I go by Rose."

I shook her hand. "I'm Bella."

Her hands were cool and soft, but firm. Her eyes warned of a steel backbone and a tendency to distrust. My gaze held hers, and I met her firmness.

"Bella it is then. No Dr. Bella?" She teased, half joking.

I smiled back, determined to meet her test to test. "Dr. Bella sounds like a pediatrician. I hope that's not our patient base here."

Mr. Long chuckled and Rosalie released my hand, satisfied at least with my response. "You'd be surprised. I have to get back to work, but it was nice meeting you Bella, come stop by if I can help with anything." After a friendly nod to me and Mr. Long, she absorbed herself back into the screen in front of her.

Mr. Long offered his arm, and led me towards the last office. The door was a different color than the others, this one was painted a light blue, whereas the others were all in theme with the mustard yellow.

"Rosalie is a good one. You'll have to forgive her if she seems cautious. The last director that was here lasted only three weeks. She just wants stability. Anyway, this one is yours. Forgive the paint job, the director before you asked it be painted to a more soothing color. She brought in the paint and rollers and did it herself when I told her there was no budget for it."

I turned the door handle, and pushed it open, revealing an aggressively baby blue ceiling and walls. In the center of the room was a white desk, carrying a midline computer humming quietly.

"Wow." I wondered out was certainly an interesting way to cope with the daily stress of prison reform and mental health.

Mr. Long sighed, "I know. If you can't stand it, I'll hire a crew to at least try to remove it, and repaint. But we really don't have it in the numbers this month. Think you can stick it out?"

I nodded, my lips curling slightly at the edges. "Dont worry. It's kind of charming. I'll be ok."

Mr. Long seemed relieved. "Good. I mean, thank you. I promise it's not permanent."

I stepped in and took a breath. 1400 miles, a 3 hour flight, and a rainstorm sent me into this room, covered in sky blue paint.

A quote came to mind after Mr. Long had left and I began to organize the boxes I had shipped in from home.

 _"Do not despise humble beginnings. The Son of God began His life in a humble manger." Miriam Kinai_

I wasn't a religious woman, but the words seem comforting against the artificial colors around me and stacks of papers.

I looked down at the label of the package.

"A new beginning." I whispered, tearing the sticker off the cardboard.


	2. Chapter One - Daffodil

_A/N Hey everyone, thanks everyone for such a great early support. We are introducing two POVs in this chapter. Edward's POV will be written by ClairvoyantPlume, a good friend of mine, and Bella of course is all mine. I saw someone ask about uploading schedule, and my aim is once a week. Alright, on with the show, and leave Plume some love!_

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 _ **BPOV**_

"This one's name is Emmett McCarthy. He's in for assault with a deadly weapon and resisting arrest. He's in for nine, and has two more left. He applied for parole last spring and was rejected, the committee felt he was unable to control anger emotions, and likely to re-offend."

I nodded, opening the file. "It says here Jessica was the primary tech until a few months ago, then Mike took over. It also says Jessica requested to be pulled from his sessions due to 'unwanted and dangerous sexual advances.' Did she discuss that with you?"

Rosalie ran a hand over her hair, pushing it away from her cool hazel eyes. "She came to me with the concern, and the recording of the session. She claims that McCarthy went in for a kiss, and upon denial became enraged."

I flipped through Jessica's notes. "She doesn't mention any of that. In fact she's very vague. Have you met McCarthy personally?"

Rosalie took a sip of her tea. "No, we haven't had reason to. Mike is fairly confident in the rehabilitative progression and anger management. I try not to take inmates away from their primary unless a concern has arisen."

I glanced up at her. "In here Rose, respectfully, I will ask that you refer to them as patients, not inmates."

Rosalie looked a little surprised at the correction, but she nodded. "Of course. My apologies."

"It's not a problem. I'm a little concerned though at the lack of documentation, or even a report on the incident. All she did was ask for a transfer of patients. I'll sit down with her tonight and see what exactly happened here. The recording I assume has been uploaded, so I'll check on that as well. I'd like you to be there Rose if you don't mind, as you have a good rapport with her."

She nodded, and leaned back in her seat. "You suspect a malpractice?"

I shrugged one shoulder and closed the file. "I don't suspect anything. I know it's against procedure to not file a formal complaint when a patient pushes sexual advances, and I know her notes aren't clear."

Rosalie smiled slightly, tilting her head. "You don't take prisoners."

We both looked up, and laughed. "Not in here I don't." I smiled, handing her the file. "Alright, let's send him in."

Rosalie stepped up towards the door. "Want me to stay for this one?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. If you could go get my next patient ready though that would be great." I looked down at the list I'd written on the notepad in front of me. "I've got Charlie Hughes next, and after lunch I close with Edward Masen."

"Charlie will be easy enough, but Edward you might as well leave with Marissa."

I frowned. I asked to meet each inmate in session during the next week or two, even just for a few minutes, and so far no one had resisted.

"Why's that? She will continue as primary, I'm only introducing myself."

Rosalie sighed as she leaned on the door. "No it's just a waste of time. He's been in for 6 years, has 7 months to go. In his 6 years he's never made progress. He declines to speak in or out of session."

I rose a brow. "Not even to the other patients?"

"Nope. He stays to himself. No altercations or citations during his stay either. Marissa says he just stares at the table till end of session. Oh- that's McCarthy. You ready?"

I nodded pulling my attention back to the current patient at hand. Although the distractions from Edward were pulling some of my focus, I pushed it away for the moment. The silent man would have to wait his turn.

The door opened and two guards escorted what seemed to be a bear of a man into the metal chair across from me. His ankle and hand restrains fully locked tight.

"Mr. McCarthy." I stood and offered my hand.

Emmett grinned at me, and the boyish look on his handsome face radiated energy. He was basically bouncing with energy, his eyes quickly zipping from my face, to the guards, and to my outstretched hand.

"I'd shake your hand but Muscle One and Muscle Two here might remove mine if I tried."

I smiled, and looked to the guards. "He can touch my hand. It's alright."

With some trepidation, they let his hand move up to grip mine. His hands were warm and strong, and instinctively I felt strangely at ease.

Emmett was, according to his record, 6'7", 260 pounds of hardened muscle, and completly tattoo free. An oddity to the prison life. His eyes were bright and flashed of warm copper, his hair a dark contrast, cut short.

"Thanks for joining me Mr. McCarthy. Mind if I call you Emmett?"

"You can call me whatever you like as long as you write nice things about me on that paper of yours." He gestured with his chin to my notepad.

I laughed. "Give me nice things to write about and I'll write them." I looked to the guards. "Gentlemen, would you mind taking a few steps back? I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic."

They opened their mouths to protest, as they'd been made aware of the previous situation with Jessica, but I raised a hand. "It's alright. Just stand near the door."

Emmett looked bewildered as the guards slowly backed away. "Geez you've got them whipped. You must be signing their paychecks" he joked.

I snorted. "I'm the new Director of Mental Health here. And I figure if you were going to jump across the table and kiss me, this would just save us some time and energy."

His eyes widened slightly.

Ok, yes. It was a risk being this bold with him, but his personality...big, blunt and playful made me confident. I needed trust with these people. And some of them didnt want to pussy foot around, and if they felt you were, they would lead the session, and not you.

After a moment he let out a loud guffaw. "The balls on you smalls. I never would've thought you'd've had any underneath that pantyhose."

I grinned, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief. "My balls are my buisness McCarthy, but I'm touched at your interest. What I'm more concerned about is why one of my staff members asked to be reassigned away from you. Don't you find that odd?"

Emmett groaned and sank a little in his char. "More about this. Look. I didn't fucking touch her. And I sure as hell wouldn't try to. Have you seen her smalls? She's not my type."

"Okay, okay. So tell me why she thinks you did. Tell me why there's been no formal report held against you yet."

"She knows I didn't do shit. And She knows what really happened. If they investigated me, they'd find out."

I leaned forward. "So what did happen Emmett? If I'm going to be on your side I have to know the truth."

He sat up once again, eyes focused on me, hesitating slightly. "What happens if you don't believe me? What happens if this is a bad-cop/ good cop kind of thing and I end up in solitary because you like to twist words?"

Without breaking eye contact I placed the recorder on the table. "This recorder documents our conversation real time. It also automatically downloads onto the prison server, so whatever you say here, I won't have time to mess with or misinterpret."

Emmett seemed to relax at this. "Alright." He rolled his shoulders a little, and looked to the grey and unremarkable ceiling.

"She was asking about past relationships. If anyone might be waiting for me when I got out. I told her I didn't feel that she needed details, but that yes, I had people who missed me on the outside. I mean Smalls you got to admit I've got a hot ass on me."

I rolled my eyes with a smile and waved him on.

"Anyway," he continued, "she wouldn't drop it. She kept fucking pushing for a name, or if I had a girlfriend. I told her to fuck off." He grinned. "That stopped her wheels. She started acting all damaged and hurt and one thing led to another and suddenly she was reaching over the table asking for a hug."

"Ms. Stanley tried to embrace you?" I asked, shocked.

He nodded. "She said she wanted to 'make up'. I refused, and she went in for a kiss. I pushed her away, and suddenly that recorder thing got pushed in my face as she claimed I assaulted her. It's all bullshit. You know it's bullshit."

I just looked at him for a moment. "You don't seem at all upset about the situation. More just annoyed." I observed

"She cant do shit because nothing happened. I'm not worried about that mouse. I just don't like her messing with my file so close to my application for parole."

"Emmett, you know I have to report your claims against Ms. Stanley. If what you said is true, she will likely lose her job."

He frowned. "She's supposed to help people can't do that with her tongue down someone's throat."

Against my better judgement I laughed. "Fair enough. Emmett I'm going to need you to write a statement of the occurrence. Be as detailed as you can. Were there no guards in the room? Do you have any witnesses?"

Emmett frowned. "She always asked they stand outside the door. She said they got in the way of her process."

I paused, "Emmett, if any one request a meeting without supervision again you report it to me. The guards aren't just there to protect the counselor. You have a right to request them for your own protection." I reached down into my suitcase and provided Emmett with an official statement record sheet, and a soft lead pencil. "Take this back with you and please fill out the record with as much detail as you can. You and I will meet again tomorrow to collect it.."

He looked surprised, and maybe a little impressed. "Will do smalls."

"And Emmett," I held out my hand for him to shake. "You can trust me to find out the truth. And I'll make a promise to you, whoever is in the wrong, will be held accountable."

He rose a shook my hand with both of his, the handcuffs rattling slightly. "I'm counting on it. See you later smalls." He winked at me, as the guards took him by the arm and guided him out.

I sat back down and rubbed my eyes. One day in and I had a patient with a sexual harassment suit grievance against a subordinate. Fantastic.

The ringing from my cell phone forced me out of my own head and I leaned down to retrieve it from the bag. Rosalie's name lit up the screen.

"Hey Rose."

"Hey. How was McCarthy?"

I let out a breath. "He's claiming Jessica is the one who attempted the assault."

"Well damn. Any validity to his claims you think?"

"I'm not sure yet. Either way with a open complaint against her of this magnitude she has to go on mandatory suspension till it's resolved."

Rosalie groaned. "She's not going to take that well. And Mike will be stuck with her workload till she she returns."

"No he won't. I'll take Jessica's dailies until this is resolved."

"You're the boss. Oh, also Charlie Hughes was just sent to medical. He's complaining of chest pains, you cool if we move him to tomorrow?"

I sighed and nodded, although she couldn't see me. "Sure, I have to talk to Jessica anyway and talk to the warden. Rose do you mind sending me the transcript of Jessica's recording? Emmett said she only turned it on after the incident."

"Oh yeah, she told me that she forgot to turn it on beginning of session. I had her fill out a compliance with policy form. It should be in her faculty network profile."

I smiled, Rosalie may not trust me yet, but she was damn good at her job. "That's great. Good job. I'll send out a reminder about the recorders." The clock on the wall ticked closer to 3pm. "Okay Rose I'm going to give Jessica and the warden a call, then I'm going to have to make Edward Masen the last one on the list for today. I'll take him into session at 4:30."

"Sounds good, let me know if you need any back up."

"I'll do that. Thanks Rose."

We disconnected and I gathered my things. This was going to be unpleasant.

 _ **EPOV**_

I leaned my head back against the cold cinder block wall and squeezed my eyes shut. From the sound of the argument two cells down, it should be Tuesday. They only have a handful of things to fight over, so they keep them on a steady rotation. Almost like clockwork. You could base a calendar around them.

Not that it matters. Every day's a Tuesday if you're here long enough. The arguments could happen three times a day and I wouldn't be the wiser. Every day for however many years it's been so far. One. Long. Tuesday.

I turned my head to the right, where I, without fail, always hoped there would be a window. Not a big one, even. Just something that could let the light through at sunrise, or frost up in winter. It could be the size of a mouse, I wouldn't care.

Thundering footsteps echoed through the hallway. Emmett, probably. Even in prison, he was one of the biggest guys around, and was never known for his quietness. You could tell in an instant if he moved an inch. I tilted my head slightly to confirm. Sure enough, it was him, flanked by two guards half his size. They were lucky he was the sort of guy to keep his head down and get through. If he ever tried to fight, they'd have their hands full.

One of the psychiatrists, blonde and a bit stressed-I recognized her voice from previous sessions, shrill and grating-knocked on the door.

"Mr. Masen, we've come to collect you for your appointment." My appointment? I stared at the door in confusion as two guards came in to escort me upstairs. Despite the blending together of days, I was pretty sure that I had just spoken to one of them two days ago.

 _Just go along with it, Ed. Keep your head down. And whatever you do, don't say a word._


End file.
